


King-Sized Bed

by lovehugsandcandy



Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23039317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehugsandcandy/pseuds/lovehugsandcandy
Relationships: Colt Kaneko/Main Character (Ride or Die)
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

This is the biggest bed Ellie has ever seen, let alone slept in; it stretches to cover most of the room, floors and walls bare around it as if it were a hallowed centerpiece and the rest of the room remained unfurnished in homage.

The rest of the room generally is untouched, the bed and closet the only things ever seeing use in this room; with the massive undertaking to rebuild the shop floor, this room is almost an afterthought to the activity below.

They fall into this enormous bed, frequently joined as one, always migrating to the center, to each other. For even though the bed is huge, an expanse of sheets stretching out well past her outstretched arms, she still always finds herself pulled into the arms of the boy next to her. Even in sleep, he reaches out, tugging at whatever expanse of skin his fingers can grasp to pull her closer, as if his unconscious mind fears that she will be spirited away by the ghosts that line the empty room, entities that he alone can see, phantoms coming to life against the bare concrete as the sunlight traces down the wall and fades to black.

He is so near that she has absorbed his secrets, seeping from his skin through her pores to her heart as she is held captive by hungry hands in the dark. She has learned the way his hands curve perfectly to fit her hips, the way the smell of leather and oil seems to linger in the curve of his neck.

And, most importantly, she can now recognize the subtle signs that his sleep is haunted, demons come alive beneath a furrowed brow: the catch in his breath, a soft stutter in the exhale by her ear; the soft tremble of his lip, tickling the back of her neck.

At the first sign, her eyes fly open.

And her heart shatters every time.

“Colt.” She spins in his arms, carefully, wary of flailing arms and jerky movements.

He says nothing, pupils twitching behind shuttered lashes, arms tightening to pull her in, hold her close, sheltering her from demons possessing his unconscious mind.

“Colt,” she hisses louder, bringing her palms up to cradle his cheeks, trace a soothing path down his arms. The catch in his breath grows louder, more frequent, marring every inhale with a wheezing groan. “I’m here.”

It takes two more attempts, repeating his name as her hands dig increasingly insistent fingers into his warmth until his eyes flash open, mouth catching on a sob as he looks about, eyes wild, nails digging crescents into her hip as his mind returns to their bedroom, away from the death that haunts him.

She hums quiet hushing sighs as her hands continue their trails, feeling the tension ebbing from his muscles.

“Ellie…” he croaks, and she feels tears spring to her eyes, pain in his voice resonating in her soul, tremulous timber echoing unceasingly in her mind until she is desperate to soothe.

She rolls on top of him, her hands pulling at the hem of his shirt, slick with sweat, as his unsteady hands clutch uselessly at her thighs. She makes quick work of their clothes, her sure fingers making up for his trembling ones, still halfway between dreams and reality. His cock twitches as skin is exposed, her body draped bare over his, and she can feel his heart pulse beneath her palms, moaning as her body opens for him, sliding down until their hips are flush and she can feel his pulse racing inside of her, can feel the terror leaving his veins to be replaced with passion, hunger, as his hips thrust into hers.

He is so warm, heat flaring everywhere they touch, molten lava of his hand, his cock, as if the flames that tormented his nightmares licked his skin to leave burning trails everywhere she can reach. His mouth is open and the whites of his eyes, his teeth-they gleam under her, shining in the dark that surrounds them weighty like a blanket as the sparks build to an inferno beneath her, her hips moving frantically, his cock impossibly large inside of her, stretching her walls as his thumb drags circles on her clit.

She blinks back the tears from her eyes as her fingers clench in his waist. The peak is getting closer, and she knows that Colt, always _always_ , won’t cum until she does, holding out until he ekes every drop of pleasure from her body. She wouldn’t call him a generous lover; Colt and generosity make little sense together. The concepts are polar opposites, as if they were flung to separate corners of the earth never to meet in this life or the next. Instead, he forces orgasms from her core not of kindness but of greed (as if he wants nothing more than her walls pulsing around his cock and he won’t stop, will fight and kill and ruin, until he gets what he wants), of possession (as if he uses her pleasure to ensure that she won’t seek any other lover and instead will stay in this giant bed craving only his touch), of desperate selfishness (as if he craved nothing more than her slick coating his cock and he won’t stop until her body bends to his touch and her pleasure).

It doesn’t take long, the length inside her and thumb moving in tandem, just so, practiced motions comforting, tantalizing, but it still takes her by surprise, her mouth falling open as the quakes start from her core, traveling through her body as plaintive moans fall from her mouth. He thrusts once, twice, and then follows her into the abyss, her name on his lips like a prayer, salvation claimed in two syllables, one staccato heartbeat, pleasure flooding in to replace pain and fear.

She collapses against him, his arms circling her to pull her close, slick skin on skin, as close as possible, no room for demon or phantasm to come between. She knows that she should get up, to find her clothes, to clean up where she can feel her slick, his cum, sliding down her thighs as wet evidence of their shared pleasure. However, as his breath evens and the rise of his chest slows underneath her, as his hands relax and his fingers still where they had twirled in the small hairs at her nape, as his features soften below her and she rests her head on his chest, limbs intermingled even in the wide expanse of sheets surrounding them.on all sides, together, they sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

She awakens with a gasp, chest heaving, and sits up, frantic, parched throat choking around smoky that won’t make its way into her lungs.

“El?” The voice comes from her left, more sleepy slur than actual speech, but a sob leaves her mouth regardless as she lunges, somewhere between diving and collapsing, to land on top of him. Her arms grab hold, hard, nails digging into his bare sides as her nose burrows into his neck, rough and desperate. She would heed the quiet gasp of pain if she didn’t need him close as humanly possible. 

“Ellie?” He sounds more awake now, confused but clear. She still can’t answer. She’s shaking, can hear her teeth clattering and feel her bones knocking against his, but she can’t stop the tremors. The air that is entering her lungs is still acrid, smoke and gasoline still burning the inside of her nose, the back of her throat, even as she tries to take heaping breaths at the skin between his neck and shoulder, right where leather and sandalwood and deep comfort usually reside. 

“Ellie? Ellie, what is it?” Alarm is seeping into his voice. His fingers dig rough indents on her hips, up her spine, moving her hair from her face as if to check for injuries. Unfortunately, the wounds they both have are invisible, pain not merely lingering on the surface but instead reaching its twisted fingers dark and deep through thoughts and brain and soul until they take on a life of their own, a dark mass come alive inside twisted dreams.

She can barely get the words out. “Nightmare. It was…a nightmare.” She tries to sniff back the tears, but they both know it’s not working as they flow from her eyes onto his skin.

His hands pause, touching away the wetness on her cheek, and he jostles her so he can try to peer into her face. “What happened?” His hands swiftly move to her back, sweeping down and up, as far as he can reach, as if calming a skittish animal.

“You-” Her voice breaks and she can’t even finish the sentence, instead pulling him even closer. It has to hurt, the strength with which her arms surround his bare chest so she can force every single atom to collide. It’s physically impossible for two beings to share the exact same space, but he responds in turn, arms looping around her just as hard, holding her so tightly that she cannot fully inflate her lungs. It’s better, shallow breaths moist on his skin, her ear pressed against him so tightly that his heart beat is thundering in her ear, steady and solid and present; she counts the pulses, every thump a reminder that he is there, next to her, and suddenly she wants him even closer.

Her fingers are rough as she reaches down, pushing his boxers out of the way so her fingers can circle his cock; he hisses at the first contact but it only takes a few strokes before he is hardening, twitching in her palm as the heartbeat by her ear speeds up, moan caught in the back of his throat. She shoves down her pants, expediency requiring she only pull one leg free, and then she is moving, hips catching him where she is wet and wanting, and then he truly is as close as he can be.

There’s nothing between them as she takes him deeper, hips rolling and forcing his cock further inside, almost to the point of wincing. She bites her lip between her teeth and a rush of iron slides over her tongue; this is not gentle. It is harsh, demanding, every swivel of her hips slamming into his as he pushes the air from her lungs; he is alive, every inch of him, and she needs to feel him inside her more than she needs the stale breath in her lungs.

Her breath catches as his finger finds her clit. He moves quickly, rough, just shy of too hard but she welcomes the jolt of pleasure and pain, twining together and winding their way up her spine, waking her up even more, and reminding her that he’s alive, they’re both alive, hidden away in this bed, flesh joined in a desperate celebration of life.

Her orgasm takes her by surprise. She didn’t think she could come, not tonight, only wanted him inside her, but Colt has always drawn bliss from her, an expert at the precise motion needed to push her over the edge. Her mouth falls open as she shakes, can feel her walls tightening rhythmically around his cock as her vision whites out and she collapses onto his chest. She can dimly sense him thrust, her nerves still firing in pleasure, and she feels rather than hears his moan, deep vibrations under her, his fingertips dragging her hip bones down to meet his.

His heart is racing under her cheek, and his skin is salt slick as he wraps his arms around her waist, lips nuzzling her hair, her temple. She shudders as he slips out of her, but she doesn’t move, even as the wetness flows out of her body, onto her thighs and the sheets below them. He only pulls her closer, hands sliding across her shoulders. 

“Ellie?” he whispers low in her ear. “What happened?”

The tears start anew as her stomach clenches, remembering the dream. It was terrifying, even more vivid since it was a combination of fear and memory, her subconscious warping the worst night of her life into something even more terrifying. “You…” She swipes at her face but can’t stop the tears. “It was the night if the vault and the bridge but…but it was you, instead of your dad, it was you driving the car and-” The noise that comes out is choking, cracking, voice positively fractured and she can still see Colt behind the wheel of the Aylesbury, can still hear her frantic screams as he explodes into flame in front of her, can still feel her feet pounding on the pavement as she races towards the blaze. She has to blink her eyes open to somehow stop the horror from re-looping over and over on endless repeat behind her eyelids. However, the room is so dark that phantom flames start anew in the dark corner; she whimpers.

He jerks, turning and spinning her; the room shifts and she is on her side, his eyes dark on hers as pull the blanket behind her. Ensconced in a cocooned in warmth, the tremors slow. He stares into her eyes. “That didn’t happen. That won’t happen.” His voice is hard, sure, his future prediction as factual as if he is stating the date, the weather, an inherent truth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can. I’m not going down like that.” His eyes are ablaze, reminding her of her nightmare, reminding her of before, when she told him he was gonna burn himself down one day. She doesn’t know if that was a portent, if her dream was a premonition, but she knows that, if he burns, she will as well, willingly, will follow him through the flames to the other side. “I’m not leaving you.”

She nods, tears in her eyes, reaching up to twine her fingers in his, where they have graced her cheek. Her breathing is settling, her heart rate starting to fall, and she knows that, if there is fire, they will get through it together.


End file.
